


Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anthea Has the Patience of a Saint, Awesome Molly, Awesome Molly Hooper, Big Brother Mycroft, Brother Feels, Brotherly Bonding, Drunk Mycroft, Drunk Sherlock, Established Anthea/Mycroft Holmes, Eventual Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Holmes Brothers, Jealous Sherlock, Meddling, Molly has the patience of a saint, Molly is a Good Friend, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Mycroft is a Bit Not Good, Nervous Sherlock, POV Sherlock Holmes, Romantic Fluff, Sherlock Being a Drama Queen, Sherlock Being an Idiot, Sherlock Feels, Sherlock Holmes & Molly Hooper Friendship, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper Fluff, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper Kissing, Sherlock-centric, Sibling Rivalry, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Unexpected Visitors, Weddings, awesome Anthea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-07-11 05:26:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7030828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all begins with an invitation to Mycroft's wedding to his PA and seven days at a resort in Jamaica, with the assumption that Molly pretends to be his girlfriend that his mother <i>might</i> be under the impression that he's going to propose to sooner rather than later. It ends up being <i>so</i> much more than that...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MaybeItsJustMyType](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaybeItsJustMyType/gifts).



> So this is the second Sherlolly fic that I promised my friend **MaybeItsJustMyType** , and just in time for her to celebrate having 500 followers on Tumblr! I decided to make it multiple parts, because the idea was just so much fun. It was inspired by a prompt I saw on a list from Tumblr user **aangisdead** that went " _you need a plus-one for your brother’s wedding so i’m going as a favor but there’s been a misunderstanding and now your whole family thinks we’re engaged._ " Anyway, sweetie, congratulations on the milestone and I hope you enjoy!

_You have been cordially invited to the nuptials of Mycroft Reginald Holmes and Andrea Elizabeth Macmillan..._

Sherlock skimmed over the rest of the wedding invitation but his eyes were drawn to the sticky pink Post-it note that his mother had stuck to it, and he scowled as his eyes raked over her precise handwriting. If he had his way he’d forgo the seven-day affair entirely. His eldest brother was going to get to miss it because he was estranged from them all. Why couldn’t he be afforded the same luxury? He wasn’t exactly _fond_ of Mycroft or his PA and he knew Mycroft would probably not give a toss one way or the other if he was there or not. But as he pulled the pale pink note off the invitation he knew if he pulled a disappearing act his mother would give him holy hell.

He looked at it and sighed. He had been feeding his mum a few lies about seeing a woman to get her off his back. And they weren’t a _complete_ lie; there was something going on with Molly, he supposed. There was no physical intimacy in the relationship, though he would admit to no one other than himself that when he was alone had had thought of kissing her, and...more than that. _Much_ more. To the point that when he awoke most mornings he needed a very cold shower. It was getting to be a damn nuisance. But he was sure that after the debacle of her engagement to the meat dagger and his absolute cock-up of handling the situation with Janine and then her utter disappointment in his subsequent relapse with heroin addiction that the best he would ever get with her was...whatever it was they had, something that was more meaningful than a friendship but not quite a romantic relationship.

And he hoped that because of what they had that she would help him now. Because if he showed up to this event without a plus one, he would _never_ hear the end of it.

He stuck the Post-it on the front of the invitation and then slipped it back in the envelope before making his way out of Baker Street to a cab. He wasn’t quite sure how to ask for her help. This was not the type of situation he wanted them to be in, ideally. Seven days on a tropical island where they had to pretend to be in a relationship. It could spell the end of their friendship, for one, and he didn’t know what he would do if he lost her. Molly was special to him in a way that the others in his life were not. John and Mary were special to him, yes, and so were Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson, but Molly was something different. She was...he wasn’t sure if he could describe it. She had become such an integral part of his life that he wasn’t sure he could survive her being extricated from it, and if this blew up in his face, that would be the end result, he knew that. But he had no choice, not according to the note attached to the invitation.

He fretted the entire way to Barts, something he never found himself doing, and he almost found himself with a case of nerves by the time he arrived at the hospital and began to make his way to the morgue. He got into the lift and pressed the button to the basement, trying to calm himself. This would not end badly. If she refused, he could simply continue the fiction, say his girlfriend had been busy and unable to make it. If Mycroft scoffed and made things hard, he would indeed try and make his wedding an event that did not go well. He would indeed be that petty. And if Molly did agree, then they would play it by ear, he supposed, and plan for as much as they were able.

When the lift doors opened he stepped out, only to see Molly coming towards him. He blinked and held the door open. “Molly,” he said quietly.

“Sherlock!” she said with a warm smile. She had on her regular coat as opposed to her lab coat. “Oh, it’s good you came now. I was just on my way home. There was a leak in the lab and the pipes flooded so they sent me home early. I thought I’d take advantage of the early time off and catch a film. Do you want to join me?”

“All right,” he said with a nod. When she stepped into the lift he let the door closed. “But you may not want my company after you hear why I came.”

“Oh no,” she said. “You don’t want me to march right back into the morgue, do you? It’s flooded!”

He gave her a small smile. “No, I just have a favour of a personal nature. It’s rather like an undercover case, but it involves my family.”

She gave him a confused glance. “Is it something bad?” she asked. He thought for a moment, then handed her the envelope containing the invitation. Her confusion grew until she opened the envelope. He plucked the Post-it off the top and she opened the invitation, and then realization dawned on her face. “You need a plus one!”

“Seven days in Jamaica,” he said with a nod. “But there’s a complication.”

“And it has to do with that Post-it, I take it,” she said, looking up at him.

“My mother is under the assumption I have a girlfriend,” he said quietly. “I may have told her some of the activities we have done together have constituted dates.”

She was quiet for a moment. “Have you mentioned me by name?” Molly asked.

He shook his head. “No. She’s pried, though, and Mycroft may have been a malicious bastard and brought your name up specifically. And what’s worse, she assumes I am very near asking for my girlfriend’s hand in marriage.” He handed her the Post-it note.

“‘Would you like me to bring a selection of your grandmum's rings?’” Molly read off the note, her eyes widening. “Oh, that’s a predicament.”

He nodded. “Yes. And I know my brother would _love_ to see me in an awkward position. It would make his nuptials all that much sweeter.” Sherlock ran a hand through his hair. “I realize that although we are close, I am in no position to ask, but...”

Molly studied the Post-it note and the invitation. “Seven days in Jamaica?” she asked hesitantly.

“Mycroft is covering all of the expenses for all of the wedding party and their plus ones, apparently,” he said. “Despite our differences, he wants me to be his best man.”

“Seven days in Jamaica _that I don’t have to pay for_?” she asked, perking up a bit.

“At Couples San Souci,” he said. “He booked the entire resort so it will only be my family, Anthea’s family and the guests for the wedding. You’ll have full access to all the activities the resort offers around the festivities planned for the wedding.”

She bit her lip and then studied the invitation and her eyes widened. “The wedding is in three weeks!”

“It’s not common knowledge, but Anthea is pregnant. Hence the rush,” Sherlock said. “If you agree I can guarantee Mycroft will make sure arrangements for your leave are taken care of. I know Anthea has a soft spot for you and she’ll want you there, and he has his own reasons for wanting you there.”

She shifted slightly as she stood, and then finally nodded. “All right, Sherlock. I’ll go with you. But we have to have some ground rules, all right?”

He nodded, relaxing. “Very well. Perhaps we can decide them after the film? I’ll treat you to supper at any restaurant you choose.”

“Oh, trust me, that wasn’t a smart move,” she said with a small smile on her face. “I’m in the mood for Chinese, so I think I want to go to Hakkasan Mayfair.”

“I suppose I set myself up for that, but fair is fair,” he said, leaning over to press the button on the lift to take them to the lobby. She had agreed. Good. They had three weeks to work out the details but he was fairly sure they could come up with terms they were both agreeable to. He just hoped that nothing happened to blow those terms out of the water.


	2. Chapter 2

They were to depart for the wedding in two days and he was, to put it bluntly, a bundle of nerves. Molly had seemed rather keen to go along with this charade, which had surprised him, and had only laid down a few hard and fast rules for their stay at the resort. She had said, for the most part, she would be willing to play things by ear, as that would be the best idea. She had said if they were too rigid with their plans it would all fall apart around them. He felt she had a point, but he knew his family far better than she did. He wanted to have as many plans in place as possible.

She was at Baker Street with an overnight bag, in order for them to prepare for what he had determined was to be inevitable: the need for them to share a bed. He had not gotten the room arrangements, but he had no doubt if his mother was assuming they were at the point of marriage she would _also_ assume they were already intimate, especially considering the bride to be was already expecting and he was not that different than his brother when it came down to it. He had shared his bed with women before; he was not the virgin his brother thought he was, and most recently he had, in fact, shared a bed with Janine when they were perpetrating _their_ fake relationship, though shagging had not happened.

But this was different. None of those women had been Molly.

It wasn’t that he fancied her, per se. He wasn’t entirely sure what he felt towards her. She was someone he trusted, he was absolutely sure of that. He would trust her with his health and well-being, with his sanity if he needed to, with his life most definitely. He would trust her to keep his secrets, as she had proven herself capable of doing so with important ones already. He would trust her with anything, really. There were very few people on the face of the earth he would trust as much as he trusted Molly Hooper.

He would also never purposefully go out of his way to hurt her, and if he did so accidentally, he would usually do his best to make it up to her to the best of his ability, if not above and beyond his ability. He wanted her to be happy, and woe betide anyone who hurt her. When he found out exactly why her engagement had ended, after he had gotten sober and been given freedom of movement again, he had made sure Tom understood in no uncertain terms what a mistake it was to hurt Molly. But he had also decided he would not interfere in her affairs; she appeared to have moved on from her infatuation with him so he would only hover in the background and step in if needed.

But there was something about her that caught his attention, that cause him to look a moment longer, want to reach over and touch her hand or place a hand of his on the small of her back as they walked together. Every once in a while, he’d give her a compliment and he’d wish she’d see it as an overture instead of simply brushing it off with a smile and thanks. He knew she had moved on, but to be summarily dismissed was hard to swallow sometimes when he had now started to see what had been in front of him for so long. And he had the feeling this trip to a tropical paradise might be harder for _him_ to handle than it was for _her_.

He already knew tonight was going to be hell.

He gestured towards his bedroom and she headed that way and he followed. She set her bag on the bed and then paused. “Do you have a side?” she asked, looking at him.

“The left,” he replied.

“Oh, good. I set my things on the right side, then,” she said with a wide smile, and then she chuckled. “No pun intended.” She began to pull a few things out. “I brought enough for tonight and tomorrow night, and then my luggage is at home.”

“You should bring it here,” he said. “Mycroft wants us to fly out in the morning.”

Her eyes widened. “I thought we had an afternoon flight! I wanted to look my best before we left.”

Sherlock paused before he spoke. “You already look magnificent,” he said, knowing she would brush it off.

She blushed and ducked her head. “That’s nice of you to say, Sherlock, but I could look better.” She went back to pulling things out. “I suppose I could style my hair and make my face up here before we go. Are we taking a cab?”

He shook his head. “Mycroft is sending a car for us,” he said. “It should arrive around ten.”

“Oh, then that’s plenty of time to get ready,” she said. “I’m an early riser.”

“How early?” Sherlock asked, tilting his head.

“Usually six o’clock to half past, somewhere around there,” she replied.

“I’m awake around the same time,” he said.

“It will be nice to have company then,” she said, lifting her head up and giving him a smile. “I’m so used to being up alone at that point in the morning.” She finished pulling her things out of the bag. “Where can I put the clothes?”

“I cleaned out a drawer for you,” he said, moving to his chest of drawers and opening one for her. 

“You didn’t need to do that,” she said, a look of surprise on her face.

He shrugged. “I felt you wouldn’t want your things out where anyone could see them, or in your bag the whole time you were here.”

“That was quite considerate,” she said. “Thank you.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek softly. Physical signs of affection such as kissing had been okayed for the duration of their pretending to be in a relationship, but he was surprised that she was doing something _now_ , when it was just the two of them alone in his bedroom. She saw his look of surprise when she pulled away and laughed softly. “We need to get used to it. Better here where there’s privacy.”

“I suppose,” he said.

“Which I think means we might need to do more if you’re going to look like that every time I kiss your cheek,” she said.

“What do you mean by ‘more’?” he asked, his confusion growing.

She reached up and patted his cheek. “I mean, I may have to actually snog you. On the lips.” She leaned in again and lightly brushed her lips against his as he stood as still as a statue. When she pulled away she nodded, a slight smirk on her face. “Oh yeah. _Lots_ of snogging. You need to get very used to kissing me, Sherlock, because I am a very affectionate person.”

He nodded just slightly. “Alright,” he said quietly.

“I’ll go change into my pyjamas and then we can move to the sofa,” she said, moving away from him back to the bed and the clothing that was on it. He didn’t move at all until the bedroom door closed and he snapped out of his shocked state. Had she...had she _flirted_ with him? Did she have ulterior motives for agreeing to this? Was she as unattracted to him as he had assumed?

What in the bloody hell had he gotten himself into?


	3. Chapter 3

Oh, the morning had been _hell_. 

Not because Molly was there, in his bed, next to him, but because at some point in the night they had gotten all tangled together and her head was on his chest and his nose was nestled in her hair and it was all nice and cozy and he was afraid to move. No, not that.

It had been hell because he had a very _obvious_ reaction to sleeping next to her and the only thing that would cure it was a frigidly cold shower.

But he also didn’t want to move because she wasn’t awake.

It had not been the most pleasant of circumstances for him.

Eventually, he pulled himself out of the warm, comforting spot on the bed next to her and stalked into the loo to deal with the problem at hand. This was going to be a problem and she was bound to notice him leaving the bed before she awoke and there being wet towels. Molly wasn’t a stupid person at all; she would figure out the _exact_ reason well enough.

He could have just made an advance towards her, alleviated the problem in a more pleasurable way but...no. They hadn’t said no shagging explicitly but he didn’t want to do that to her. Even if this whole experience led to a change in their friendship, sex would complicate it even more and he didn’t want to put either of them in the position to regret agreeing to this. Kisses he could handle. That extra step would be too much.

Unfortunately in his haste to slip out of bed, he had forgotten to take a change of clothes with him, and then it got _very_ interesting and _very_ awkward when he went back into the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair wet only to find her awake and frowning. But just for a moment before she grinned rather widely. “Hmm,” she said.

He frowned. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said, giving him an appreciative glance. He scowled in return and damn it all, her smile got wider. He ended up stalking to his closet and yanking out the first pieces of clothing that looked to match and heading back to the loo. He gave her one last look and she returned it with a smirk. “So you _do_ go commando.”

“Are you going to be like this the entire week?” he asked crossly, stomping over to his dresser and getting a pair of pants out.

“I don’t know,” she teased. “Maybe.”

“I don’t like it,” he replied in a huff.

The look on her face softened and she got out of bed and came over to him. His hands were full so he was, in some ways, at her mercy. But she simply leaned in and kissed his cheek. “I’ll tone it down,” she said, still sounding amused. “But you should get used to teasing and rather suggestive remarks. After all, you have a reputation, thanks to _her_. If I don’t tease, it will be strange.”

He nodded slowly. He hadn’t considered that, that the reputation Janine had given him in the tabloids would possibly be brought up. He was sure his own family thought it was rubbish; after all, Mycroft had done his best to convince everyone Sherlock was a virgin. But there had been...interesting...experiences in his life. He could use that knowledge to pretend that was how things had been with Molly.

And...there went all his blood to the lower half of his body again, damn it all.

“I need to get dressed,” he murmured, taking a step back from her. 

“Do you want me to make coffee?” she asked.

“That would be nice.”

She gave him a warm smile and then moved around him, picking out some clothing from her drawer and then nodding before she left the room. He sighed and began the process of trying to will his reaction away. This was going to be pure, unadulterated hell. Perhaps he should have asked someone else…

No.

No, he wanted Molly there. He liked her company and knew it would be the only thing to make the week bearable, being surrounded by his family and Andrea’s family and no cases or anything to stimulate his mind. Not that his family wouldn’t be the insufferable geniuses they were; his father was the exception to how most of his family were.

And he was about to go walk into the lion’s den with a raging crush and an even more visible reaction to his fake girlfriend.

_Wonderful._


	4. Chapter 4

He managed to just barely get through another evening, waking up in a similar state and taking care of the situation the same way. He was fortunate he had woken up before her alarm had gone off, and they were both able to shower and have a decent breakfast before the car arrived. He knew she had worried she wouldn’t look presentable but she looked quite lovely; the minute Andrea had found out Molly would be his date she’d swooped in and “kidnapped” Molly for a shopping spree, and the results had been quite favourable. She wore a haltered maxi dress with vertical stripes across the bust in coral, black and white in various sizes, interspersed with a dotted black and white stripe at times, and then a diamond design under the bust in the same colors and pattern. Her back was tantalizingly bare and while she had considered wearing her hair down she had it coiled in a sleek knot at the base of her neck.

He couldn’t help staring at her for a few minutes when she came out of his bedroom, fully ready to go, and the blush at her cheeks in return had been rather welcome for the times she had almost made him blush in the last few days. “Do I look alright?” she asked.

He nodded. “I think you’re going to end up more radiant than the bride-to-be,” he said, going for honesty at this moment.

“It doesn’t help Andrea has morning sickness,” Molly said. “That does put a damper on radiance.”

He quirked a smile at that. “I suppose it would. Hopefully, it won’t be a problem for whatever activities they have planned.”

“Well, it’s more that it will put a damper of getting pissed at her hen night, but then I doubt there will be many of us attending.”

This surprised Sherlock. “She doesn’t have many guests?” he asked.

“Not even close to as many as your brother invited from _your_ side of the family. How large is your family, anyway?”

“Rather large,” he said, looking down to adjust his cuffs and finally look away, as hard as it was. “I have many uncles and aunts, and quite a few cousins to boot. And some of them have children, so...”

She nodded. “I’d always wished I had a large family. I have my brother and that’s it. He’s a confirmed bachelor so unless I get married and have children...” Her voice faltered and he looked up to see she had a rather distant look in her eyes. No doubt she was thinking of her failed engagement and the life she should have had if he hadn’t come back. He wanted to reach over and simply comfort her, but the look disappeared almost as quickly as it came. “But there’s still time. And who knows? Perhaps someone might catch my eye during this trip.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly. “That defeats the purpose of us pretending to be a couple,” he said.

“Breakups happen,” she said, her voice brighter. His scowl deepened but then there was a knock at the door. “I suppose that’s our cue to put on the act.”

“I suppose,” he replied. 

He watched her get her luggage and he got his things as well and they made their way out of Baker Street to the waiting car. The driver loaded the luggage in for them and they slipped inside, finding themselves sitting across from Mycroft and Andrea. Mycroft had a surprised look on his face as he looked at Molly first, and then Sherlock. “I know she agreed, but I’m still surprised,” he replied.

Sherlock’s scowl hadn’t completely worn off and he turned it to his brother, but Molly set a hand on his arm. “Well, a week in Jamaica that I don’t have to pay for is hard to resist,” Molly said.

“But to put on this charade?” he asked.

Molly shrugged just slightly. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve gotten to completely relax, and I don’t think it will be that hard to play the role,” she said. Sherlock perked up and saw she was looking at him with a warm smile. He wanted to ask why she had joked about breaking up with him when she seemed to be excited at the prospect of their pretend relationship. This just proved that all of this was beyond him, really, and he really had no idea what to do other than play along as best he could.

Andrea gave him a reassuring smile. “I’ve convinced Mycroft to play along,” she said. “I didn’t think it would be fair for him to put Molly on the spot in front of both our families.”

Sherlock nodded. “Thank you,” he murmured.

“Of course, if it all falls apart on its own...”Mycroft said, and Andrea elbowed him in the ribs. He sighed. “I’ll do what I can to salvage the charade.”

“Thank you,” Molly said, and she seemed happier at the prospect of the wedded couple to be having their backs than he did. He knew if it went to hell Mycroft would extract at least one favour in repayment, and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know just what his brother would demand.

Mycroft turned to look at Andrea and his expression softened when she smiled at him. Sherlock had only _really_ observed the two in situations where they’d put on their own charade of being no more than what they appeared to most people, a minor government official and his personal assistant. It had taken him far too long to even realize they had a more intimate relationship because they both wore their masks so well. But now it was so very obvious to anyone who cared to look.

“Are you both excited?” Molly asked, breaking him from his train of thought.

Andrea nodded. “I suppose I’m more excited about getting married than the pregnancy,” she said. “Though without it I doubt Mycroft ever would have gotten around to proposing.”

“I would have eventually,” he said, reaching over to take her hand. “But would you have waited much longer before you proposed to _me_?”

“I don’t know,” she said, smiling at her fiancee. “I suppose we’ll never know.” Mycroft grinned back at that and then squeezed her hand. After a moment Sherlock felt Molly reach for his hand and he gave it to her. He wasn’t sure why she wanted it, but it wasn’t a bother. There was something reassuring about knowing if he had to watch his brother being cloyingly sweet he could always do the same in return to make him regret asking him there, especially as he had the feeling things were going to get more complicated as the week went on.


	5. Chapter 5

It wasn’t until they had arrived at the airport that he realized just how wonderful an actress Molly really was. She was not quite as she had been the last two nights, when there had been plenty of “practice” for them to act as a couple, practice he had quite enjoyed, but she stayed close, always keeping a hand of hers in his or on his arm, smiling brightly at the assorted members of the families who would be traveling with them and, at least for a first impression, pulling off the charade quite nicely. Not that he found it hard to play along; with Molly being the lead in most of the interactions, he simply followed and reacted accordingly.

He was only thankful this group of guests were the ones from London and his parents were not among them. That was the introduction he was dreading the most, as while he was sure his parents would adore Molly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with the “impending” engagement questions just yet. His mother was as tenacious as he was when she wanted something, and what she wanted was the sons she was still talking to to give her grandchildren. She’d succeeded with Mycroft, so now all her attention would be on him.

They settled into their seats on the plane and Molly leaned over with her mouth near his ear. “That seemed to go well,” she said quietly.

“They were an easier audience to trick than my parents will be,” he murmured back.

“Oh, I think your mum will love me,” she said with a smile before kissing his cheek and then reaching for the book she’d taken out of her handbag to read. Molly didn’t quite realize that was among the problems with this charade: his mother _would_ absolutely adore her and when it eventually came time to explain how the relationship had ended, he would be a disappointment in her eyes. Maybe not as much as his eldest brother was, but enough that it would make things decidedly more frosty between them.

Of course, as long as he wasn’t as despised as Sherrinford, he supposed he could tolerate a bit of a cold shoulder from his parents.

He settled further into his seat. It wasn’t often he thought of his eldest brother. There was usually no real reason to. The age difference between the two of them was considerable enough that Sherrinford had been nearly a teenager when he was born, and Mycroft not that far behind. He was considered a blessing by his parents, and a burden to Mycroft, but Sherrinford had never really liked him much, as far as he could tell. Sherrinford was the one in the family who had gotten the innate ability to make people at ease almost immediately, a skill his father had not managed to pass down to either he or Mycroft. It seemed his mother’s brilliance had skipped Sherrinford as a result, and he despised his younger siblings for being the one their mother was proudest of.

To this day he still wasn’t entirely sure of what had caused the rift between his parents and his eldest brother, but he knew it had to do with a large sum of money disappearing from accounts and Sherrinford scampering off in the middle of the night. It was never discussed even when he asked, time and again, and eventually, he simply stopped asking. It was the one mystery he’d decided not to solve in his entire life because, really, he was glad Sherrinford was gone. He had never liked the way Sherrinford treated him, and while his life was not necessarily _better_ once he was gone, it was _easier_ , at least.

He decided he’d done enough ruminating on the past once the plane began its ascent into the air. It had been some time since he was able to fully relax on a trip away from England, probably since early on in his association with John. The trip to Karachi had been fraught with danger and getting Irene to relative safety had been his tantamount priority, and obviously working on destroying the web Moriarty had woven had not been easy of safe. And then the last time he had been on a plane he had purposefully overdosed so that he could concentrate on the case in his head. Whether he had made it to Russia alive had been of little consequence, as he had more drugs on hand in case he’d _had_ to finish the trip, but he was grateful for the second chance.

Not that he would ever admit that, of course.

He’d been surly when it was over, and only dropped the attitude when it had been decided Molly would be there during his withdrawal. He hadn’t seen her since before he had shot Magnussen, and the fact she wasn’t more angry at him for overdosing had been surprising, considering the scene in the lab. But she was there when no one else was, and he’d decided if she would be with him through the worst of it, he would make things better between them. And it was a promise he had done a good enough job keeping since they were in the position they were in now. He doubted even for a trip to Jamaica for free that she would agree to be his girlfriend and potential fiancee, unless _possibly_ it had been for a case.

Still, he should have recognized long before the first night in Baker Street for this charade that his feeling had changed. When they had been curled up on the sofa and she had leaned in for their first kiss, he had been fairly sure he had made a mistake. And he knew he had for certain when she kissed him because he knew he wasn’t going to be able to go back to simply being friends, not after this week. Either he would try his best to convince her to make the fiction a reality, or he would lose the most important person in his life.

Of course, her mixed signals, vacillating between the breakup quip and then the simple kiss on the cheek now did nothing to help him figure out which direction she might go in. Logic was of no help, and they still had the entire week to go. He tried slipping into his mind palace to focus on things related to cases he had abandoned for the week, but he kept turning to look at Molly, completely immersed in her book. He knew that that image was going to be a sight frequently seen in his mind palace for a long time to come.

He hadn’t managed to settle anything in his head by the time they had arrived in Jamaica, and he was a bit cranky when they were deboarded and put into cars to get to the resort. Molly had barely taken her eyes off the book she was reading, and continued to read in the car they shared with his Uncle Harrington.

Of all the members of his family that he had contact with, this particular uncle was the only one he rather liked. His Uncle Rudy had favoured Mycroft, and no one at all had really liked Sherrinford, as far as he could tell, but it had been his Uncle Harrington who had fostered his love of deductive reasoning, sending hard to find books on any subject Sherlock wished from either his own private collection or those of friends and colleagues. There were books that were worth thousands of pounds at Baker Street because Harrington had never asked for them to be returned, always saying you would never know when you needed a good book, and as a literature professor at Oxford, he supposed Harrington knew that lesson well.

“You picked a woman who likes to read,” Harrington said, his voice laced with approval.

“I did,” Sherlock said, relaxing. This would be easy to talk about. He had found Molly’s sterling qualities were something he could expound on for quite a while if needed. He was sure John and Mary were tired of his talking about her, at least. “She has a personal library in her home. Not a large one, but the contents are varied.”

“Medical texts, classical literature, modern pulpy romances, and a few other goodies,” Molly said as she turned in the seat in front of them to join the conversation. She gave Harrington a smile. “Sherlock mentioned you gave him quite a few of the books he has now?”

Harrington nodded. “Mycroft and Sherrinford were interested in learning certain things. William wanted to learn _everything_. You don’t squander a mind like that by not feeding it with sufficient knowledge.”

Sherlock glowered slightly at the use of his real name but Molly simply nodded. “Oh yes. A beautiful brain like his would go to waste if it was starved in such an unnecessary way.”

Harrington’s smile back at her got brighter. “It’s good to see we see eye to eye,” he replied.

“We certainly do.”

Sherlock watched the two of them launch into a conversation about him and he listened with only mild embarrassment. It was one thing to think highly of himself, but it was another to hear two people discuss him in such high regard. He wasn’t used to that; while he knew Mary adored him, she didn’t have these kinds of discussions with her husband in front of him. Lestrade usually didn’t need to defend him anymore so he didn’t, and while he was used to Molly saying a few kind words, this was different. Perhaps he had made up for the trouble he had caused her after all.

By the time they arrived at the resort Harrington and Molly were quite deep in a conversation about the intricacies of Austen’s works, and it was because he had tuned out their conversation he saw his brother exit out of his car with a smile that quickly dropped to a scowl. It only took seconds for his attention to shift in the same direction, and he knew his own expression was similar.

“Brother dear,” Sherrinford Holmes said from where he had been smoking a cigarette. Then he spotted Sherlock as well. “And you too.”

“Sherrinford,” Mycroft said, his tone steely. “Why are you here?”

“Mummy invited me, as an attempt to mend some broken fences,” he said. “She’s getting settled but you know me.” He held up the cigarette. “Bad habit.”

“Bloody hell,” Sherlock heard his uncle say quietly as Sherlock reached over for Molly’s hand.

“Who is that?” Molly asked.

“My eldest brother,” he said, watching as Sherrinford’s gaze swept back to him and then to Molly. His eyes widened and then got brighter, and Sherlock decided then and there he would show Molly was not to be looked at in that way by anyone other than him. He turned to face her and leaned in, kissing her soundly, feeling her knees buckle slightly as he set his hands on her waist to keep her up. When she pulled away to catch her breath she looked up at him, speechless. “Why don’t you and Andrea go find out where we’re staying in the resort?”

Molly caught on quickly, giving him a dazzling smile as she went in for her own kiss, giving him one that was nearly as breathtaking as it was unexpected. “I’ll make sure the bed is adequate,” she said with a wink in Sherrinford’s direction before she and Andrea headed inside.

“So the tabloids weren’t lying?” Sherrinford asked with a smirk. “Wonder how you kept her under wraps. She’s got quite a nice...” His smirk widened.

“Go back to whatever hole you’ve been hiding in,” Mycroft said, his tone more flat and hostile than before.

“And miss out on the wedding of my brother? Never,” he said. “Get used to it, Mycroft. I’m here and I think I’d like to have a bit of fun.” He walked away from his brothers then, putting his cigarette to his lips and inhaling.

Mycroft moved closer to Sherlock as their uncle made his way in the same direction the women had. “He’s trouble,” Sherlock said.

“Oh, he always was,” Mycroft said. “I think we’ll need to put aside our pettiness and make sure he doesn’t do anything that will ruin this for any of us.” Mycroft held out his hand to Sherlock. “Agreed?”

Sherlock nodded, shaking his brother’s hand. “Agreed.” Just what neither of them needed, he thought to himself. Complications...


	6. Chapter 6

He found that Molly had already been taken to the room they were going to share when he was done discussing with Mycroft what to do with their unexpected and unwelcome family member. For the time being it was decided to keep Sherrinford at arm's length but keep an eye on him, make sure he didn’t go around using his charm for anything that would ruin the event. Sherlock had never really felt sorry for Mycroft before today, to be honest, but to have his own _wedding_ crashed by his eldest brother at his mother’s behest was a rather unfortunate event and he was determined to make sure he did his part in ensuring it all went smoothly for Mycroft and Andrea.

Apparently, he was going to take his role as best man to heart.

The room that they were sharing was well-appointed, and he found Molly had already chosen the appropriate side of the bed to lay down and rest. It didn’t last long, though, as when he tried to quietly but his clothing away she stirred. “Have I been asleep long?” she asked, yawning.

Sherlock shook his head, setting aside the task of unpacking for a moment. “Probably no more than an hour,” he said.

“I didn’t think I'd be tired,” she said, giving him a small smile. After a moment she sat up and reached out towards him. He was surprised and moved closer, and she gave him a hug, her head resting gently against his midsection. “I’m sorry this just got more stressful for you.”

“Well, it seems to be my luck nothing goes to plan,” he said, gently putting his arms around her in return. This wasn’t a bad position to be in, he realized. It was comforting and very welcome right now. “But my brother is here for some other reason, I know it. I know he isn’t fond of either Mycroft or me, so he would only have come to be petty or to do something else. I’m betting it’s a bit of both.”

“I’ll try and avoid him if that will help,” she said, moving her head slightly to look up at him.

“It would,” Sherlock said with a nod. After a moment Molly let go and he stepped back, but just as he was to go back to the other side of the bed she grabbed his hand with a slight tug to sit next to her. He did, and she rested her head on his shoulder. “Are you comfortable like that?” he asked, slightly amused.

“Well, I think if we have to pretend, we can spend more time being close,” she said. “Even if we’re alone. It doesn’t have to be the full charade, but every bit of practice helps.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Is it all practice, though?” he asked, the amusement fading from his voice. He wanted to know the answer to this question more than anything.

“I wouldn’t have said yes to this if it was just for the vacation,” she said after a pause. “It’s nice, being away from England to a lovely place like this, but...” She lifted her head up and he looked at her. “I suppose there’s a bit of my own personal daydream fulfillment to it too.”

He nodded at that. He wasn’t sure if that was an affirmative to see about _actually_ embarking on a relationship, or if she just had wanted to see what it would be to pretend to be involved with him, but before he could ask she leaned in and kissed him softly. At that point, he decided it was best not to overthink the situation and simply see where it lead as he moved his hands to caress her face. 

When she was done she rested her forehead against his, catching her breath. “I’m sorry,” she said. 

“Molly, it’s alright,” he said. She pulled back slightly to look at him. “Would you like to have lunch with me? As an actual date?”

Her smile was wide as she nodded. “I would, Sherlock,” she replied. His own response was a soft smile on his face, the type he generally only gave to her, and he reluctantly pulled away to get off the bed. He offered her his hand to help her up and when she stood up she didn’t let go, instead entwining her fingers with his. It seemed as though, perhaps, they would not return to London as simply friends after all. This was a change he could look forward to in their relationship...as long as things weren’t torpedoed by the end of the week.


	7. Chapter 7

Sherlock had the feeling Mycroft and Andrea were dealing with the other guests who would be arriving throughout the day and discussing among themselves what to do about the sudden reappearance of Sherrinford in their lives, but he was bound and determined to ignore the family drama until the first big event of the week, the dinner welcoming the guests and laying out various things they would be able to do. Mycroft was one for micromanaging his schedule and those of everyone in his vicinity, but surprisingly most of the guests would be able to pick and choose from most of the activities the resort offered at their leisure. Molly was among the lucky ones.

He, on the other hand, was not.

He’d had an itinerary sent to him via email with the things he was obligated to attend as best man. The only other member of Mycroft’s wedding party was to be Andrea’s twin brother Robert, he had been told, and he was on his way to speak to the man now after an enjoyable lunch with Molly. For an actual date, it had gone well, with there not being any real nervousness between them or awkward pauses in the conversation, though he did think perhaps for their next public date he and Molly might temper the more gruesome discussions, or at least conduct them without so much glee. He had the feeling her play by play of the last autopsy she’d done before moving into Baker Street for the temporary basis before the trip had made those around them uncomfortable. He, of course, had hung on every word, but then, he was not most people.

He had left with a rather nice kiss at the end of the meal and was walking with something of a bounce in his step through the resort area to where Robert was supposed to be staying. He had not come from England as most of the guests had, instead arriving via Minsk. That was interesting, as he vaguely remembered an operation going on there involving MI-6 the last time he hacked into Mycroft’s phone out of boredom. He was curious as to learning more about Robert.

The door to the room was opening up and Sherlock saw a tall man with a very recognizable face, at least to him. He had seen the person exiting the room from time to time in his attempt to dismantle Moriarty’s criminal empire. He slowed his pace as he approached the room. “I suppose I should say thank you,” he said.

The man turned around and gave a rather tight smile. It was obvious now he was a spy, as Sherlock could recognize the face and posture of someone who had wanted to get the drop on him and instead had been thwarted. “You do recognize me,” the man replied.

Sherlock nodded. “You’re Andrea’s brother. Obviously not in the identical sense, even considering you’re fraternal twins. But now that I’m catching more than a glimpse, I can see the similarities.”

His smile turned a bit more rueful. “The fact you even caught glimpses means perhaps I should retire,” he said. “Either that or you really are one of the smartest men in England.”

“Go with the compliment towards me,” Sherlock said.

“I do the James Bond designation a disservice, though,” he said. He held out his hand to Sherlock. “But yes. I’m Robert McMillan.”

Sherlock shook his hand. “I did mean it, about the thanks. I know there were situations I wouldn’t have survived without interference,” he said sincerely. That was, at least, one thing that had changed over time. When he did mean his thanks to people, he tried his absolute best to come off as sincere, and without the man before him, he may not have come back to London at all.

“You aren’t the prat your brother said you would be,” Robert replied.

“Well, there’s been an upset to the carefully arranged festivities, so Mycroft and I are apparently going to be on our best behaviour to each other and others,” Sherlock said. “Have you seen him or your sister yet?” Robert shook his head as they released hands. “Our eldest brother has crashed the wedding, so to speak. He was invited at the behest of our mother without Mycroft or Andrea being informed.”

“Bloody hell,” Robert said, shaking his head. “I need to talk to my aunt.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Robert looked as though he was debating things in his head, and then he motioned back to the room he’d come out of. “It’s a conversation best had with a bit more privacy.” He went and unlocked the door and stepped inside with Sherlock following. The room was something like a mini-suite, Sherlock saw, with a sitting room type area. Robert sat in one of the seats and Sherlock sat across from him, watching as Robert rested his elbows on his thighs and clasped his hands together. “How much do you know about your brother?”

“Not much,” Sherlock said. “He’s the only mystery I’ve really purposefully chosen not to solve.”

Robert nodded. “He’s a rather stupidly charming man, who has a habit of buying, selling and trading things that don’t belong to him.” 

“So he’s a con artist,” Sherlock said, distaste clear on his face.

“Of a sort,” Robert said. “Sometimes he deals in secrets.” Robert leaned back. “And unfortunately, my entire side of the family is here, and that’s our family business. Andrea is the first in...well, generations, I suppose, who isn’t a spy for the Queen.”

Sherlock felt a bit of surprise at that. One member of the family, one who he recognized from his travels, he could see. He had never really taken the time to delve into his future sister-in-law’s history, but he could now see how having her family here would be a problem. Recognizability, private conversations that somehow did not remain private, a bit too much alcohol and the wrong thing said to the wrong person… “This is bigger than just sibling rivalry,” Sherlock said finally.

“Fortunately, my Aunt Mildred is, more or less by default, almost everyone’s boss,” Robert said. “So the sooner she knows Sherrinford Holmes is at the resort, the sooner word can be spread among the family to be extra careful of what’s said.”

Sherlock nodded. “That makes sense.”

Robert shut his eyes. “I wanted one week to relax,” he said, shaking his head. “Was that too much to ask?”

The corner of Sherlock’s mouth crept up in a half-smile. “Oh, I know that feeling,” he said.

Robert opened his eyes again and gave Sherlock what he thought was a genuine smile. “You know, I think the two of us are going to get along just fine,” he said. Sherlock nodded in agreement. He had already come to pretty much the same conclusion. After a moment Robert stood up and nodded towards the door. “Come on. Let’s pull my aunt away from whatever intellectual she’s attached herself to in your family so she can have the decent conversation she says she’s always craving and tell her the bad news.”

Sherlock’s grin got wider as he stood up. Perhaps his brother marrying into this family wasn’t so bad after all...


	8. Chapter 8

Sherlock and Robert walked around the resort, looking at the various places where people could be sociable, talking as they moved, and eventually found the now infamous, at least to Sherlock, Aunt Mildred at a table with his Uncle Harrington and Molly. He could already hear the spirited discussion of what constituted a lesser work by Dickens from twenty feet away, and he swore he had never seen a gleam so bright in his uncle’s eye before.

Molly spotted them first. “Sherlock!” she said, a wide smile on her face. “Please come stop them from taking this argument to others who don’t share their love of literature.”

“Sorry, I nodded off during Dickens,” he said, leaning over and pressing a kiss into Molly’s hair, just because he _could_. “Ask me my opinions on the stories of Doyle and I may be worth having enter the fray.”

“Oh, he did write good science fiction,” Harrington said.

“Yes, but H.G. Wells was _better_ ,” Mildred said.

Harrington looked for a moment like he was going to disagree, but then stopped and nodded. “I suppose you have a point there. _The Time Machine_ was a stellar work. Not fond of the Guy Pearce adaptation, but I wore through many VHS copies of the original production.”

“And just _why_ don’t you like the Guy Pearce version?” Mildred asked, with a mildly pointed tone and a smile on her face.

“Aunt Mildred, we have a Problem,” Robert said, sitting next to his aunt. “With a capital P and the initials SH.”

“What has he done now?” she asked, nodding towards Sherlock.

“She knows you?”Molly murmured as Sherlock sat next to her.

“I’ll explain later,” Sherlock said back. Then he turned to Mildred. “Not me. At least, not this time. The _other_ problematic Holmes child with those initials.”

The amusement dropped off Mildred’s face. “Shit,” she said.

“You’re acquainted with my eldest nephew?” Harrington asked.

“Unfortunately,” Mildred said. She looked at Sherlock, narrowing her gaze. “Robert filled you in, I take it?”

Sherlock nodded. “Yes.”

“And your pretend girlfriend’s clearance level is high enough to know the truth, I suppose?”

Sherlock started to reply but Molly shook her head. “Not so pretend,” she interjected. “At least, not anymore, I suppose.”

Mildred nodded slowly, giving them an approving look. “Good. One less secret for the bastard to ferret out.”

“I’m missing quite a bit here, aren’t I?” Harrington asked with a frown on his face.

“You have the highest clearance of the Holmes family,” Mildred said, turning to him. “Aside from my soon to be in-law and Sherlock, of course. Robert and I work as Her Majesty’s top line of defense when it comes to national security, and your eldest nephew is a threat to Queen and country.”

Realization dawned on Harrington and he nodded slowly. “Ah. That makes sense.”

“What does?” Robert asked.

“Why half the guests I’ve run into so far from Andrea’s side of the family seem so closed off,” Harrington said. “It fits with the nature of what I’m assuming is your family business.”

Mildred shook her head. “For the lot of us, we seem to be very bad at relaxing.”

“You were doing just fine, dear,” Harrington said. “I never would have guessed.”

Mildred gave him a warm smile. “I like you, Harrington. I think I’m going to have you stay nice and close this week.”

“There are worse places to be,” he replied with a grin of his own. “But I imagine we’ll all be keeping an eye on Sherrinford?”

“Wouldn’t hurt,” Sherlock said. “I know less about him than almost everyone else, it seems. But I’m willing to go to great lengths for this week not to be ruined.”

“Well, start discretely spreading the word amongst our family he’s here,” Mildred said to Robert. “I’ll send the ones who we can’t afford to have the bastard see off to a lovely vacation on some other Caribbean isle, and we can dip into funds to make sure the wedding gifts are up to scratch for their unfortunate disappearances from the event.”

“Does that include cousin Sharon?” Robert asked. “She’s a bridesmaid.”

“Damn,” Mildred said. “It does.” She thought for a moment. “Your sister is fond of Dr. Hooper. Suggest she take Sharon’s place.”

“What?” Molly asked, her eyes widening.

“You’re the only one in Sherlock’s small group with any real sense, we all know it,” Mildred said. “That’s why we like you. You rein in this walking hurricane next to you.”

“I’ve never been called a walking hurricane before,” Sherlock said in an approving tone of voice.

“It isn’t a compliment,” Mildred said.

“At least it’s not The Ice Man,” Sherlock retorted.

“Oh, we all knew that was a crock of bull the minute Andrea said she had her sights set on your brother,” Mildred said. “But back to the situation at hand. Make the suggestion, get those people out of here we need to get out as quickly as possible, and tell Mycroft and Andrea to extend more invitations at the last minute to some low-level government officials that they need to curry favour with. You know, the ones most aggravated by _this one’s_ stunt.”

Robert nodded. “I’ll get right on it,” he said. “Might need to steal your companions, as they’re the only parts of the wedding party with high enough security clearance.”

“Do what needs to be done,” Mildred said. Robert stood up, as did Sherlock and Molly, before she turned to face Sherlock. “I do actually find you interesting, you know.”

“I’m glad, as we’ll be family by the end of the week,” Sherlock said.

“There are worse families for my niece to marry into,” Mildred said. “At least you and Mycroft turned out well enough.” She then waved her hand at the three of them and turned back to Harrington.

“That’s our official dismissal,” Robert said. The three of them moved away from the table and Sherlock and Molly turned to Robert. “I suppose we start rounding up people and sending them off.”

Sherlock nodded and Robert began walking ahead of him and Molly. Molly looked up at Sherlock, her eyes slightly wide. “Spies, Sherlock?”

“Family business, apparently,” he said.

“Why is nothing normal in your life?” she asked.

“I have no idea,” he replied. “Do you want to stay a part of it?”

“Of course,” she said, reaching for his hand. He felt his heart lighten at that and then they went to go catch up with Robert. That was one small consolation, at least.


End file.
